Protagonist examined the readings of a strange machine. “That’s it,” he said. “There are no new stories. The humans have run out of ideas.”
“Impossible!” exclaimed Antagonist. “Where will our magic come from?”
Protagonist put his head in his hands, thoroughly defeated after a lifetime spent trying to keep the spark of imagination alive. “I don’t know.”
Antagonist, the younger, less rigid of the pair, put forth a heretical suggestion. “What if we create our own?”
Protagonist’s eyes widened. “That would be against all the laws of the council! We can’t.”
Antagonist was determined. His gaze was steely. “What if?” he asked. “Just what if we did?”
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